Race
by Nozonda Hiiro
Summary: When the team takes the case of a teenage runner, "Everybody lies" begins to take an even more applicable meaning. House/Foreman slash.
1. Black and White

"Race"

Chapter One: Black and White

"Alright! Ready?"

"C'mon! Jesse! Jey!"

"On your marks…get set…GO!"

The boys shot off. House watched the boys racing in the park, but particularly on the one he assumed was Jesse, the clay colored boy who had been winning the last of the races so far. His hair was thick, but short, he'd styled it to flip upward toward the front. It reminded him of an Abercrombie and Fitch model. His limbs were lanky, and though they didn't have much volume, his muscles were rather defined. His skin was just starting to get clammy, and Jesse pulled the bottom end of his shirt up to his face and gave it a once over.

He let his eyes trail onto the grass below the bench, where birds were starting to waddle around his feet. He tapped his cane on the ground and they dispersed; he set his eyes back on Jesse, who had won another race. The park boys, racers and watchers surrounded him, acknowledging his skills.

"Man you got mad skills!"

"Jess-ay! You did good, bro."

Jesse smiled and House could tell that had he'd been light enough, he'd blush.

"Yo, don't act like you ain' got no skills. All that smiling and ''if I were white I'd be blushin'" crap. "You can run, and you know it."

"Good Race," the only white boy from the group popped Jesse's collar.

"You're praising like I'm a god," Jesse "blushed".

Their voices trailed as the group migrated out of earshot, and House got to his feet to head to the Hospital: as much as he hated it, he had to work today.

"Good Morning, House," Cuddy greeted without looking up at him from her desk: he'd decided to bring the laser pointer today, just to aim it at Cuddy's cleavage.

"Oxymoron. Nothing's good about morning: Morning breath, hangovers, forgetting the morning after pill. And that's just yours." House replied, relieving the red light.

"Why aren't you—"

"Don't have a case. I could've skipped a whole day of work if I wanted to," He interrupted, a rough disappointment in his tone.

Cuddy remained silent as she walked past him, obviously pissed off, but not before shoving what was clearly a new case into his chest.

—

"Hell-lo, my little duckies!"

Damn. There it was. The We've-Got-A-New-Case-So-I'm-Gonna-Make-You-Suffer-Tone. Chase dropped his head. It was Tuesday, and that meant not only was he not going to get any sleep tonight, but he was likely to get paired with Cameron, to his current spite. Cameron's eyes darted to the floor, for the same reason.

"Hey, aren't you gonna drop your head in disappointment, too?"

Foreman looked up from the newspaper he was reading, his expression cool and nonchalant, and maybe even some innocence, as expected.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you're doomed for only 3 hours of sleep in the next 48 hours, maybe?" House dropped the case file onto the table.

"That's always," he replied, as his co-workers rose from their pit of despair.

"He's 15, he's had all immunizations…the only thing that is anomalous about him is that he started coughing up blood this morning…" Foreman thought aloud, peering through the files House had lain openly on the table. "What was he doing before that?"

"Go ask him." House blurted, writing down 'coughs blood' to the list of symptoms on the dry-erase board. "Ideas, anyone?"

"It could be infection."

"But then he should have a fever."

"What if the fever hasn't shown up yet?"

"What if we're missing something?"

Chase and Cameron apparently had stopped having sex with each other, because they now disagreed and contradicted everything the other said.

"Well, we need to find out exactly where the blood is coming from…if it's pulmonary or not."

House mentally sighed in relief. At least someone was acting their age. He set his eyes on Foreman, for apparently he had the brain today.

"Bingo…or something like it. Foreman, check him out. Chase, go with him."

Chase rather not question why Cameron hadn't been thrown into the mix yet. If he had, he was sure House was going to switch Foreman for Cameron just to piss him off. He stood with Foreman to leave the Conference room until…

"On second thought…Chase, go with Cameron and get the kid's medical history: Other hospitalizations, most recent physical, anything, but don't come back with nothing."

Chase mentally cursed his thoughts. He wondered if House was psychic or something, because he seemed to be able to read minds…

—

He laughed. "They always give me the black doctor. At least it's not a girl this time though."

Foreman could tell the boy was joking judging by the smile on his face. His laughter faded into a coughing fit, which left a small amount of blood in his palm.

"Hey…I know you." He said, rather weakly now, but his eyes were trying their best to get a full view of House, who was in his peripheral vision. "From the park. The finish line was close to you."

"He started coughing after you left." The white kid was with him.

"Great. I have the Kiss of Death." House rolled his eyes as he droned in his signature sardonic tone. Jesse chuckled a bit, but it turned into a cough and more blood dotted his palms.

"Hey, uh…Jesse's friend," Foreman really didn't know what to call him yet, as if it weren't painfully obvious. "I need your name."

"Jeyson." He had a really noticeable accent, somewhere between Spanish and something he couldn't quite put a finger on; Foreman made a mental note. "J-E-Y-S-O-N. No hockey-mask jokes, please." Jeyson said this more to House than Foreman.

"Crap, I was just gonna ask what was the point in wearing the damned thing if you weren't deformed. So…where'd you learn to swim? It certainly wasn't Camp Crystal Lake." Jeyson stared at the comment with fresh loathing. "What? You said no hockey-mask jokes. You didn't ban anything about Friday the Thirteenth."

"House. If you're gonna make a disturbance, do it quietly." Foreman was sure how stupid this sounded, but he was busy peering into Jesse's mouth, searching for any clues to where the blood may be coming from. Foreman ended his observation of Jesse's oral cavity, discarding the oversized Popsicle stick.

"I'm gonna ask you to keep talking to a minimum if it hurts you, okay, Jesse? Did I get it right?" Jesse nodded. "So, Jesse…have you been sick lately?" He shook his head. "Any of your siblings, parents?" Jesse didn't confirm, or deny, he gave a sort of blank stare in House's general direction, who'd decided to take a nearby chair. "Jesse? Yes, no…maybe?" Nothing. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Of course not, Foreman. You just brought up the fact that he has either negligent parents or no parents at all."

"What makes you think that?" Jeyson blurted, his eyes narrowed on the doctor who was seriously invading his personal space, in more ways than one. He sat too, next to House, because it was the only other chair.

"It's Tuesday."

"So?"

"Kids have school on Tuesday. However, you were found out having a bit of fun after the bell rang. Playing hooky?"

"That doesn't mean his parents are negligent." Foreman defended, now checking Jesse's blood pressure. Jesse smirked when Foreman made his statement.

"I don't spend a lot of time around my family…"

"Who do you spend a lot of time with?"

"Jey. He would've carried me here if I'd let him." He grinned to the best of current ability. "We do just about everything together."

"He's a good friend, isn't he?"

"Yeah." Jeyson flushed at Jesse's conversation with Dr. Foreman, who was now moving on to shining a light into Jesse's eyes.

"I need you to—"

"Follow your finger with my eyes." Jesse finished. Left, right, up, down, cross-eyed, then reversed. "Why'd you do it a second time?"

"Because…your eyes move before my fingers. Do you practice this? Or is it that you really can't see where my fingers are going? We're gonna do this again, OK, Jess?"

"OK." Left, Rig—no, up, Dow-no, left again. Crossed. Well, at least he got something right.

"You can't see too well when it's kind of dark, can you?"

"It's just how it is." Jeyson said, now moving to sit on the windowsill to get away from House. Foreman half-nodded, reaching for the thermometer covers. "Under your tongue, keep your mouth closed." Jesse cooperated. The thermometer beeped done and Foreman took note of Jesse's low grade fever. From there it seemed like an almost normal doctor's appointment, except for the fact that most of Jesse's laughs turned into coughs which left blood in his palm.

"By the way, what were you doing before you started coughing?"

"I was racing some of my friends…"

"Did you feel tired at all during that? Tightness in the chest, shortness of breath?"

"No. I love to run. If I didn't need sleep, I could run for a clear 24 hours." Jesse laugh-coughed.

"Done." Foreman announced, adjusting the lights so that they were brighter. "Alright. If you need anything, I'm Doctor Foreman, and that's Doctor House."

"Don't volunteer me! I have the Kiss of Death, remember?"

"Well…you're not a bullet…there's probably nothing to worry about," Jeyson shrugged as he made his way back to his old seat now that House was raising from it.

—

"It's funny…" Foreman thought aloud, now on his way to the elevator with his boss.

"'Ha-ha' funny or 'strange' funny?"

"'Why can't it be like that more often' funny."

"What?" House asked, though it sounded as if he really didn't want to know.

"Jesse and Jeyson. Their unity as friends…they're like brothers. The only way you know their not blood related is the color of their skin." He smiled at the thought. Jesse was a lucky kid, even if he was coughing up blood. He had something a lot of people spent their whole lives looking for: a friend of true loyalty.

"Is this the part where you lecture me about being nicer to you?"

"No, because you're an ass," Foreman answered, pressing the down arrow on the wall. "I'm saying that…you shouldn't push everyone away from you the way you do. You'll miss you on someone who could be really priceless to you."

"Too late. Jesse's already pushed everyone away."

Black and White-End

—

A/N:

This took me practically forever. I will somehow get to the whole H/F trip…eventually. I promise you, Jey and Jess have some real importance, though I am working on his diagnosis. Legal Crap about not owning House or related characters, except the park boys goes here. Much Love to those who read and review.


	2. The Candy Lady

"What do you mean it's too late?" Foreman protested. He didn't know why; he figured it was the 'House is an ass so I always disagree with him' mentality that had established over the time he'd work for House. "I mean what makes you think that?"

"Simple. The serial-killer is like the heat to coffee."

Foreman raised a brow. He was sure this was some sort of metaphor, as it always was with House. "And you come to this conclusion…how?"

"Heat and coffee are together because it's just the way the world works. Coffee's too bitter to be cold."

"So you're calling Jesse bitter?"

"No. I'm calling him Anti-Social-Because-Something-Really-Sucky-Happened-When-He-Was a-Kid."

—

"So…what's the shit on our little bullet-worn kid?" House asked with sick type of cheer when he and Foreman met the other two doctors in the Conference room once more. Foreman quickly took a seat in the back right corner of the room and began reviewing the notes he'd taken on his "bullet-worn kid".

"You should take a look at this." Cameron motioned House in her direction, and then moved so he could hover over the papers she presented to him. "It's a little weird, don't you think?" House leaned over a little more.

"How much his weight dropped or the number of times he's been in the Hospital…or the ER?" He inquired, his usual tone rising to an awkward quantity.

"Most of them were for…er—gunshot wounds. How old is this kid?" Chase interrupted, now hovering over Cameron's other shoulder.

"Foreman, care to answer?" House called, now taking a seat by the dry-erase board.

"He's fifteen." The other replied, now looking up at his co-workers, and putting his notes away. He took House's place over Cameron's left shoulder, looking for something that could give him a better idea of the diagnosis.

"Ooh, he's got a shot for almost every three years of his life…" House smirked from the stool, popping a Vicodin in his mouth.

"What are you talking about?" Foreman called back, without looking up from the paper. He was still looking for something…anything that could give them a lead.

"Take a look. Anti-Social-Because-Something-Really-Sucky-Happened-When-He-Was a-Kid." House said for a second time, now rising to write 'weight loss' on the dry-erase board.

"Low grade fever, weight loss, and he coughs blood." Foreman thought aloud, analyzing the symptoms in his head, running over them again in infinite amounts in his mind. House scribbled 'fever' on the dry erase board as well.

"Ha! It _is_ an infection!" Cameron threw a self-satisfied smile at Chase.

"You know…we could be still missing something." Chase replied, folding his arms.

"Like _what_?" House muttered, cringing at the pain in his right leg.

"Like…_drugs_?" Chase answered as he watched his boss dry swallow another Vicodin. "Legal or not. Anything. I mean…who's to say that he didn't get it from something in his neighborhood. He could've—"

"So you're saying it's an environmental?" House asked.

"But that would mean that Jeyson should've been sick, too." Foreman added.

"They never said they lived near each other. You know what happens when people assume, Foreman. And you called me an ass." House simpered, setting his eyes on Foreman with a look of 'I win, you lose' on his face.

"But…" Foreman mimicked House's smirk. "They spend a lot of time together. Which means they probably go to each other's houses, right?" Foreman must've had his own look of 'Ha! You thought you won' stashed in his subconscious, because he pulled it out then, and let it wash over House's pride.

—

"Back already?" Jeyson was watching the beats per minute of his best friend when Foreman and House returned. Chase entered a moment later, and introduced himself, extending his arm.

"Jeyson Miles. Kakkoī no akusento…" he grinned.

"Umm… pardon?" Chase raised a brow.

Jesse smiled a bit. "He likes…your um…sotaque…the way you talk."

"My accent?"

Jesse nodded, and Jeyson gave an enthusiastic point toward Chase.

Chase smiled as Jeyson took his hand. "'Kakkoī no akusento' too?" He let his smile widen into a grin, and then they both chuckled at how awkward Japanese sounded when mixed with an Australian accent.

"Wild guess. You think my being sick is environmental and want to check out where I live…" Jesse sat up and let his legs dangle from the bed. He looked up at Foreman and House, and then to Chase. ((Chase replied with a hesitant "Umm…yeah." , being a bit amazed that the boy had guessed exactly what they wanted before any of them said a word.))

"Go ahead. If the little kids don't kill you while getting to the stoop." He grinned. "Not literally. I live with Jey."

"My mom's the mujer de dulces the Candy Lady."

"The Candy Lady?" House raised a brow.

"And the squeeze cup Lady." Jesse added.

"Squeeze Cup Lady?" House appeared more confused. "What the hell is a—"

Foreman smiled. He'd never seen this man so…lost. I was unlike him, which made it better.

"He's kidding, right? About not knowing what a candy lady is? How on Earth does he not know what a mujer de dulces is?" Jeyson gasped, looking at House with an amused smirk. "You apparently didn't have a Candy Lady…did you?"

"Is it that obvious?" House replied sarcastically. "Point in asking, you moron."

"Says the guy who doesn't know what a mujer de dulces is. "She sells… caramelos…it's self-implied," Jeyson said with a bit of loathing that only House could really hear.

"Can I guess something else?" Jesse asked eagerly, illuminating the room with another wide smile.

"Go ahead," Chase replied, though House had muttered "no" under his breath.

"He's gonna send Foreman, isn't he?"

"Damn. You caught me red-handed!" House said with mock amusement.

"Go with with. It'll be fun." Jesse laughed a little (and for once, it didn't turn into a cough.) as he glanced at Foreman.

"Great. Now I'm wanted to be Foreman's form of entertainment. No."

"Look, let's put some money on it. You take a little trip, I give you a tip…say…25 bucks." Jeyson challenged. "There's a catch, though: You gotta bring proof that you actually took out the time to go down there."

"And how the hell am I supposed to bring you proof?"

"Here's a dollar. That's enough for what…four squeeze cups? Bring one back for me?" Jeyson said, flipping a gold dollar to the older man.

"I can't believe I'm doing this…" he complained. ((Foreman said he could believe it, considering there was a bet involved.)) House and Foreman left for their destination as Chase introduced himself to Jesse.

—

"My God! He was literal when he said the kids would keep us from the stoop…" House stared at the multitude of kids storming a certain stoop from the seat of his motorcycle ((Foreman refused to let House anywhere near his car.)) A few of the kids looked up from whatever confections they were eating and stared, pointing openly at the motorcycle.

"Hey, man, check it out!"

" ¿Quién es?"

"Never seen them before…"

"Ooh! A 'motre-cycle'!"

"It's pronounced _motor_cycle, not motre."

Foreman quickly hopped off the back of House's bike: the less time he spent with his arms around the other's waist, the better. He headed for the stoop first, not caring if House followed or not. But House was behind him, probably with Jeyson's twenty-five dollars on his mind. Foreman knocked on the door when he reached it, and dug his hands into his jeans pocket, as he'd taken off the lab coat upon leaving the Hospital. The door opened, and woman, who was clearly Jeyson's mother; judging by the shiny jet black hair and eyes colored like autumn leaves.

"Um…Can I help you?" she even sounded like Jeyson with the blended accent, though she spoke with better articulation.

"Sure. Four squeeze cups and any info on a kid named Jesse." House blurted after taking a last glance at his bike previous to entering the building after Foreman.

"Lesley Miles, if you men need to know and what about Jesse? He got into another fight, didn't he? I told Jeyson to try to keep him out of trouble, but-"

"No. Jesse hasn't been in a fight. I'm Doctor Eric Foreman, and this is Doctor House. We're from the PPTH, and Jesse was admitted this morning. We think-"

"No, Chase and possibly you think." House interrupted Foreman mid-sentence, of which the other man ignored him and continued.

"—that it may be environmental. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, we'd like to look around a bit."

"Oh, thank goodness!" Ms. Miles let out the biggest sigh of relief any of the men ever heard. "Oh, and Mr. House, I'll save those squeeze cups for just before you leave. OK?"

House was already examining something in a nearby room, but Foreman called out a polite "OK" from what seemed to be Jesse and Jeyson's rooms.

—

"Er…I think I got it right. This is a squeeze cup isn't it?" House asked Jeyson as he entered the room with ghost-pale hands.

"Yeah, you got it right." How many did you get? Look at how pale your hands are!" Jeyson laughed as he relieved House's trembling hand of a blue squeeze cup. "Save one. If he's well enough, Jesse will want one…and will you try one already? Because I know you bought more than two."

"How'd you figure?"

"The way your hands are shaking…Oh, here." Jeyson shoved twenty and a five dollar bill into the pocket of House's jacket.

Chapter Two: End

A/N:

This took me a while. Sorry. And sorry again for this being a transition chapter. What with trying to make sure that none of my fics die, and the constant nagging of my sibling and mother…ah, Meu Deus.

**1** Squeeze Cup: For those who don't know. A squeeze cup A.K.A "Freeze Cup" is basically frozen Kool-Aid in a plastic cup (sometimes mixed with pineapples or other fruit), of which when you squeeze it, the icy delicacy comes up where you can lick, bite or otherwise eat this frozen treat. In my neighborhood, they are twenty-five cents.

**2** Though it is self-implied, I assume that House doesn't know what a Candy Lady is, considering I asked one of my "Logical"/ "Higher IQ than me" Friends, and he really didn't know. He thought the term was actually quite funny. He thought it was a woman made of candy. I went through Google Translate and got the best sounding Spanish Equivalent. I don't speak Spanish. Not well at least. My Japanese it better lol.


	3. Odd One Out

Chapter Three: Odd One Out

"These are…really good. Considering that it's made of frozen punch…" House slurped as he fought to keep the thick blue juices from falling to his chin. "My props to your hood, dawg!" he continued in what Foreman knew was meant to be mocking.

"Not my 'hood'. We didn't have a candy lady. Next project over," Foreman corrected, softly jabbing a pen to his cheek in thought.

"Who cares? I'm twenty-five bucks richer."

"You know, the love of money is the root of all evil," Wilson interjected as he entered. He dropped a brown bag on House's desk as he took a seat next to Foreman.

"Says Saint Jimmy, our Angel of Death," House replied. His curiosity got the best of him, as it usually did, and he peered into the bag. He hadn't asked Wilson for anything, so he didn't really expect to bring him something. As he carefully pulled the edges apart, a familiar series of scent s flushed through his nose. His eyes closed as he looked relaxed for a moment, but remembering that he wasn't exactly alone, he caught himself, opened his eyes and bore down on Wilson, and let out an overdramatic, "Aw, you shouldn't have," as he pulled a burger from the bag. He eyed it curiously—as he often did most things before eating, and began to unwrap it.

Foreman raised a brow. He knew that Wilson was House's best friend, albeit his _only _friend, but he wasn't the only one who found their friendship odd. Foreman felt that he had no real room to criticize. House had one more friend than he did. And Cameron and Chase didn't count. He didn't hang out with them unless he really needed to, or, on the off chance, that Chase would invite him for a drink. Both men knew that Foreman was something of a last resort, and they both knew that taking a few drinks was something like an attempt to lift his spirits. He felt a smirk slip onto his face, and while House had his mouth full of burger, he decided to ask,

"Is there something _special_ about this sandwich?"

"It's from that local place," Wilson started, idly twirling one of his wrists.

"Best burgers on this side of town," House added after he swallowed. "You can't have any."

A light scoff came from Foreman, then a stifled laugh. Not that he wanted any, he thought, still sort of jabbing the pen into his cheek. It would click if he'd pressed it hard enough, but for now, he pressed it just enough for it to come close, but pulled back and let the spring uncoil before giving it a chance to click into place.

"You know," House started, and despite the serious tone he was imitating, Foreman could feel that House was probably about to start riding him, in some way, shape, or form. "Fantasizing about a blow job isn't going to get you closer to a real one."

"I'm just so _full_ of sexual frustration," Foreman said as he rolled his eyes.

"So…" Wilson said a little louder than necessary. "Aren't you gonna tell me about your case?"

"Fifteen year old that coughs up the red stuff and loses the heavy stuff," House declared between bites. "…Oh, and he skipped school today."

"Sounds—"

"Kinda boring." House interjected. "But mommy's making me do it."

"Do you know where the blood's coming from?"

"Not yet. But Chase and Cameron are supposed to come back and tell me. And the Dark One is here so I can look that much paler by comparison."

Wilson's eyes sort of narrowed, and Foreman formed a light scowl.

"You're an ass." Foreman said calmly.

"Hee-haw," House smirked.

Foreman rolled his eyes again and continued to prod his cheek with the pen, allowing it to click occasionally. There was a bit of a silence, only broken by House's chewing, until Wilson spoke again.

"Did you do the straw thing yet?"

"Nope. But I will be…in three…two,"—Cameron and Chase swung through the door— "One."

House wiped his hands and reached into a nearby drawer, and displayed the infamous straws. He held them out in a way that gave each of them the appearance of being the same length. But his team were smarter than that, each of them knew that one of them was shorter than the other, and considering that Wilson wasn't officially on the case, there was a mere one in three chance of drawing the dreaded short straw.

"Don't you want to know what we found first?" Chase asked in an attempt to stall.

"Not that you found anything interesting," House deduced. His arm tensed to emphasize the fact that he was still holding the straws. "You can't find where his blood is coming from. This is the part where I send you to do some more doctor stuff, in which you will _not _find the answers you seek. Now shut up and pull a straw…before I make them all short."

Chase sighed and sort of shook his head as he took the first straw. He eyed it, wondering if he'd chosen correctly. Sleeping at the hospital wasn't exactly his favorite past time…

Cameron leaned in after him and took the straw that was furthest to her right, with an on precision, as if she were surgically removing it from House's grasp. It averaged between four and five inches—it was rather similar to Chase's straw, give or take a few fractions of an inch.

And that left the final straw—one with a blue stripe, all on its lonesome. Doomed to the grasp of Eric Foreman, who took no hesitance into taking it up, not truly caring about the current game at hand.

"And the winner is…" House's voice trailed off, as his team faced each other and opened their hands to expose the full lengths of the straws.

Foreman looked over at Chase's straw first—pink stripes, cut right before the part where it was going to bend. A bit over five inches…maybe. Something like that. And then over to Cameron's straw—yellow stripes, and a bit longer…but you'd have to really examine it to tell. Foreman could see that one end—the one facing away from her fingertips, was the actual end of the straw that it was cut from. And then, there was his straw, lying perpendicular to his fingertips in his left hand. Three and a half, four inches at best. Obviously shorter than the rest, he'd concluded. Well, it's not like he had any plans.

"Dark One! I mean…Foreman—is our lucky winner today," House announced with way more enthusiasm than necessary. "Come on down; you've one a night with Anti-Social-Because-Something-Really-Sucky-Happened-When-He-Was a-Kid Guy. How do you feel?"

"Ecstatic," Foreman replied dully as he rolled his eyes.

Chapter Three-End

A/N:

Sorry about the wait. I've decided to actually attempt to finish both of my House fanfictions. Then I'll finish up World Not Part Of…maybe. It depends. I know after I finish What I Believe and Race, that I'll start posting Spencer's Game—which is going to be a sort of sci-fi adventure House fic, inspired by the too much TV and video games I partake in—and the sequel to What I Believe, which still doesn't have a title yet. I'm open to ideas for the name. But I want it to sound like it's part of a series. I may do a few one-shots from that continuity too. But anyway, R&R for the loving pancakes. I'm no doctor, so my medical things may be off…don't flame me. I'm an art major…:/


End file.
